Retire Mechanical engineer. Student at California State university Channel Island studiyingAbout Me

July 2, 2018

Treacherous Estate

page1image1785024Hollywood Book Reviews By Joe Kilgore
It’s comforting to know that there are still books being written (print or digital) that ought to have a musty smell to them. You know the kind of books I mean. Paper back with yellowing pages and a brown circular coffee cup stain here and there. The kind of book your old man used to keep on his bed stand or tucked beneath the front seat of his Oldsmobile. Now don’t get the wrong impression. I’m not saying this is a book long past its prime. Rather, it’s the opposite. A modern take on vintage gumshoe yarns that put one in mind of John D. MacDonald’s Travis McGee novels or James Lee Burke’s Dave Robicheaux stories.
In this yarn, author Behcet Kaya tells a tale of sometime private investigator Jacques (Jack) Ludefance. Jack lives on his boat in Florida and keeps a pet alligator on board for security. Jack has a history with gators. The long scar on his face is testament to it. The scars on his psyche from a recent divorce are less visible but just as acute. But don’t waste time with pity. Jack doesn’t. He just puts one foot in front of the other and kind of lets nature take its course—a course that gets a lot rockier as it goes along.
While Jack’s having a drink and minding his own business in a bar, a beautiful woman passes him an envelope then passes out dead on the floor. The envelope contains money, photographs and more that will pull Jack into a web of smuggling, gun running, pornographic movies, human trafficking, and murder. Jack comes to believe the dame wanted his help, and even though she’s deceased, when his moral compass fixes on true north, it’s locked and loaded. Of course the money didn’t hurt.
In the pursuit of Jack’s search for the truth, he comes across a collection of characters that add spice as the story unwinds. There’s his friend, the local lawman, who always has Jack’s back but often wonders just where the hell his front is headed. There’s a bad news businessman who gives to all sorts of charities but just may be taking away much, much more. There are Asian massage girls, or escorts, or whores, depending on your point of view. There’s a beautiful lady judge having a hard time remembering that she’s married. There’s Jack’s dad who’s beginning the long goodbye of Alzheimer’s. There’s a high-class attorney who may actually be worth $500 an hour. Plus there are acquaintances that come and go and occasionally die.
The novel, in classic P. I. style, is written from Jack’s first-person point of view. His commentary is frequently terse, appropriately self-deprecating, and never feels borrowed for effect. To sum it up, this is a good story well told by a writer confident in his hero and himself. It’s the kind of book that never really goes out of style.